


Whisper in my Head

by ghostyboo



Category: Cytus (Video Game), Deemo (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Ghost!Hans, but nobody understands a thing he's saying, canon timeline? don't know her, ghost au, hans is a memey piece of shit, i am physically unable to write angst, i just want my favourite boys to be friends, nobody likes conner, the desc makes it looks serious but it's more of a sitcom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 01:09:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15207512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostyboo/pseuds/ghostyboo
Summary: Simon knew something had changed when he started feeling chills in his apartment.Or: Xenon finds himself being haunted by a ghost Hans.





	Whisper in my Head

**Author's Note:**

> This may become a series because I have SO many ideas for this au, but it's just a oneshot for now because idk if I'll have enough motivation to keep writing.
> 
> Also I haven't actually played the Xenon dlc, despite referencing it, so warning for possible plot inconsistencies in this fic and any future fics sjdlfh

Simon knew something had changed when he started feeling chills in his apartment.

Naturally, he originally assumed that he’d maybe left a window cracked open, accidentally letting the frigid Winter air in. It was only after he realised _oh, right, I live on an airship 1,500 feet off the ground, why the fuck would I have a window I can just casually wind open to let in some fresh air_ that he began becoming suspicious.

It’s not like he was a superstitious person, though, so he just supposed he could chalk it up to the fact that he was still a bit jumpy after the embarrassing email ordeal (even after finding out it was his own doing).

So maybe it wasn’t the chills that completely set him on edge in the beginning. Or the fact that small objects, such as the small _Stewrica_ standee Neko had once gotten him as a ‘going up gift’, would inexplicably end up on their side occasionally. Or that his lamps would sometimes flicker on and off, but he’d never find any records of small power faults upon later investigation. In hindsight, Simon reckoned he probably should’ve payed more attention to the bad omens in the beginning.

 

~~~

 

Simon almost screamed as he was walking to his office when he spotted Colin Neumann Jr. at the end of the hall. It only took the split second that Simon took deciding whether it was too late to turn around and hightail it in the other direction for the older man to notice him and give a polite, yet unnerving, smile. As they approached each other, Simon silently wished some secret hatch would open up beneath him and send him plummeting to the Node below.

“Good morning, Mr. Jackson,” Colin greeted.

“Mr. Neumann,” Simon returned, and he only hoped he didn’t appear as though he was grimacing. He certainly felt like it. “What brings you up here, then?”

“Oh, just some more study. More pulls from the ruins. It’s interesting, but I’d prefer to be back on the ground quite soon. The atmosphere here is… one of unease, would you agree? I suppose it’s the same unease that causes me to cover my eye.” He put a hand to his face, brushing the bottom of the eyepatch.

“You never really know who’s watching.”

 

~~~

 

Simon returned to his apartment wearily, shrugging off his jacket in the entrance way and leaving it on the floor. His shoes were next, followed by his tie, leaving a trail of clothing strewn about from the door. He dragged his feet into the main living area, tossed his lanyard on the coffee table and toppled face-first onto the couch with a groan.

“I hope they put a camera in your arm, asshole,” he murmured into the cushions.

He shifted so that he could face the ceiling, his arms awkwardly twisted underneath him. A small dreamcatcher, pink with loosely tied multi-coloured string, hung above, suspended by a piece of tape. Neko had hung it up the one time she’d visited his ARC apartment when they'd offered the celebrity a tour of the ship.

“Because Xenon’s so good at falling asleep on the couch!” was her justification. He’d decided to leave it where it was.

The dreamcatcher began swaying slightly as he was watching it, as though tempting him to fall asleep. Remembering his friend’s words, he mustered up enough strength to drag himself to his feet again simply out of pettiness.

He set his laptop open on the kitchen bench, allowing it to boot up as he meandered over to the fridge to pour himself a glass of milk. After rinsing it, he took a stool and sat at his computer, meaning to continue with the code he had been working on earlier in the day until he looked at his screen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

;)

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The crude emoticon was the only thing typed into the fresh document. Simon began racking his brain for any explanation as to why it was there; it definitely wasn’t when he had last used the computer. However, before he could ruminate on it any more, he was interrupted by his phone beeping.

Fishing it from his pocket, he read the notification.

_**ARC ALERT SYSTEM:** PACKAGE ARRIVAL FOR JACKSON, SIMON_

With a huff, he rose from his seat again, the mysterious document eventually leaving his mind as he stumbled while pulling on his shoes on his way out the door. He wouldn’t even notice later that the document was gone when he returned.

 

~~~

 

The package was very obviously from a certain cat-eared streamer. When he texted Neko asking why she’d sent anything in the first place, Simon received no immediate answer, even after it was shown his message had been read. Instead, her response came via a public iM message.

 **Neko#ΦωΦ:** Can’t believe Xenon left without saying goodbye (╬ Ò ω Ó) Neko didn’t even have time to give him the going away present! (ू˃̣̣̣̣̣̣︿˂̣̣̣̣̣̣ ू)

After switching off his notifications to avoid the likely impending slew of comments from Neko’s fans directed at him, Simon got to work unpacking the care package he’d received. The first item already made him regret accepting it in the first place.

A life-size plastic cutout now stood propped up in front of him, unfolded into it's not-so-impressive height. He glared at it intensely, and Neko’s face stared back, tongue poking out mockingly. He set it on the other side of the room against the wall, image facing away, and now could read the handwritten text on the back written in a black marker.

_So you won’t miss me so much, lol! -Neko_

With a sigh, he returned to the box on the couch. The next object was a box of Letter-O’s cereal. Although he wasn’t much of a fan of the bright, sugary food, Neko seemed to be under the impression that it was his favourite cereal. In truth, he only kept buying it for his workshop because she’d been the one to mention that she liked it and ate it every time she came over (which was incredibly often).

The rest appeared to be random crap that she probably just had lying around; a handful of packaged mints, a couple of hair ties, a phone charger (which he discovered didn’t work) and a bag of chips. He tossed it all back into the box and slid it under the coffee table, swearing he'd do something with it later, and then put the cereal box away in the kitchen.

The figure was left to continue facing the wall. It was definitely the last thing Simon wanted to deal with right now.

 

~~~

 

The next morning, his cereal box was missing.

The feeling of dread that Colin was on board the vessel and he may have to suffer through another excruciating exchange with him that day had caused Simon to resort to the sugary, energy-packed breakfast, which he subsequently found to be gone from it’s new home in the pantry.

He would later find it inexplicably stored in the cupboard under the sink, but what most alarmed Simon was the message left on his countertop. Written clearly, in colourful corn-based letters, was the message;

 

**H E L L O ?**

 

The question mark was several times larger than the rest of the message, an arrangement of multiple letters since the box evidently contained no punctuation. Simon spun and surveyed the room around him, although it was obvious that there was nobody else around. He glanced back the message with a nervous laugh and a breathy “ _what the fuuuck_ “, quickly sweeping the cereal into his hand and straight into the bin.

Simon decided in that moment that the best course of action was to get the fuck out of his apartment before he went insane.

A shower ended up working perfectly to calm his nerves somewhat. He stood there, longer than he normally would, planning his day out; checking over security footage of his apartment, reviewing security measures, and wondering if he'd be able to find a perpetrator on his own (because he'd rather die than start filing complaints about someone _moving his cereal around_ ).

By the time he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, he was feeling much more clearheaded.

Or, at least, until he saw the next message.

Simon froze in place, head spinning as he looked at the pattern of circles and lines drawn onto his steamy mirror. If he was confused before, he was completely lost now. He was out the door before he knew it, clothes thrown on hurriedly and a quick photo of the mirror taken before he was speed-walking down the corridors of the ship. By the time he’d reached his office, theories were running through his mind.

_How was someone in his bathroom without him noticing? How did they get in the apartment? Why would they leave these messages? What does the drawing mean?_

He studied the image on his phone, attempting to decipher it but finding no meaning in the drawing. As he went to move onto examining surveillance records, he realised with a drawn out groan that he would have to return to the apartment and retrieve the chips from the cameras if he wanted access.

He left his stuff behind, opting to only quickly duck into the apartment and grab the tech he needed. He fumbled with his keycard getting in, and then made an awkward half-jog into the bathroom. After carefully unscrewing the small security cam from the corner of the room, he moved onto the kitchen.

As he walked, he looked down at the device, already trying to work out what size screwdriver he’d need to get the records out, and only looked up when he heard a sudden noise in front of him.

“ _Yess!_ ” the voice hissed quietly, and Simon’s head snapped up, camera forgotten.

Beside his kitchen bench stood— no _floated?_ a teenage boy. He was dressed casually in a sweater and jeans, and turned from gaping at his own reflection on the microwave door to gaping at Simon, who had now let the camera slip from his hands unknowingly and clatter on the floor.

It was the stranger that spoke first. They gave a nervous smile.

“Record scratch. Freeze frame. Yep, that’s me. You’re probably wonde-“

Xenon let out a shriek, stumbling backwards as the boy — _thing_ — shrieked in return. His hand closed around the nearest item and his body twisted as he mustered up as much force as he could and flung it across the space between them.

The large cutout arched side to side as it flew, wobbling towards and then straight through the apparition in his kitchen with a low, ebbing noise. The two stood stock still again as they watched it strike the edge of the counter, before Neko’s flat, plastic counterpart flipped across the bench-top headfirst, taking Xenon’s spice rack crashing onto the floor with it.

“HEY!,” the other person(?) squeaked, bringing down their arms that were shielding their face into a gesture of peace, arms to the side and palms facing out. “HEY HEY _HEY!_ Let’s just take a moment to get things sorted- AH!”

A second projectile flew across the room, this time a TV remote, and it once again phased through the figure before hitting the side of the bench with a sharp crack, causing the remote, battery cover and batteries to scatter in different directions across the floor.

“Can you- WAH! Can you stop throwing stuff for _one second!_ ” they pleaded, attempting to dodge an airborne cushion despite the fact that it had no effect on them.

Simon used the adrenaline fuelling him to make a mad dash to the kitchen area, rolling across the floor past the intruder and crashing into the cupboards before scrambling to his feet to grab the salt shaker from beside the stove. Pulling the cap off, he thrust his arms forwards, sending a downpour of salt over the rest of the kitchen and the person in front of him.

As it finally all landed across the floor and furniture, and not at all on the target, the two met eyes again.

“…Oh my god. That was scary. I thought that might actually work,” said the person.

“Who are you?” demanded Simon. “ _What_ are you?”

“Oh, me? I’m just Casper, the friendly ghost.”

When Simon only stayed glaring at them, still crouched defensively, the person gave a sigh.

“Ok, sure. Hi, I’m Hans. But still a friendly ghost. Not deserving of death by salt. Or… second death?”

“How did you get in here? This area should be-“

“Ok, I’m going to stop you there. Here’s a hint: literal ghost. Fully fledged ghoul. Absolute-“

“Wait,” Simon interrupted, “If I can’t hit you, does that mean you can’t hit me back?”

“Well, yeah? I-“

“And you can’t possess people?”

“Well, not that I’ve _tried_ , but-“

“Oh, thank _fuck_ ,” Simon sighed, relaxing his stance and moving back towards the lounge.

“Wh- just like that? You’re chill with being haunted?” Hans asked, puzzled.

“Am I… Of couse I don’t want to be haunted! Who asks to be haunted?? I’m just relieved that I can figure out what’s happening here without worrying about you… sucking my blood or something.”

The ghost floated behind him, grumbling something indiscernible about vampires, and hovered with a hand on his hip in front of Simon once he’d taken a seat.

“So was it you leaving messages this whole time?” SImon asked.

“Yeah. Sorry if it seemed so confusing,” Hans admitted, fiddling with the hem of his sweater. “But leaving ghostly messages is stressful! I admit that I sort of panicked with the crop circles on the mirror thing… I’m pretty new to this whole ghost thing, you’ll have to forgive me.”

“But why are you _here_?” Simon asked next, leaning in towards the other.

“I don’t know!” Hans groaned. “I just… materialised? I guess??”

Suddenly they were interrupted by a knock at the door. Before Simon had the chance to fully rise from his seat, the visitor announced himself through the door.

“Mr. Jackson? Are you in your quarters?”

“ _Fuck!_ ” Simon hissed, and then repeated the word quieter. “Of all the times for _ConneR_ of all people to show up.”

Simon whipped his head around to face Hans. “Quick! Do your… ghost thing!”

“What?” he yelped, teetering back quickly.

“Turn invisible again!”

“I don’t know how to do that!”

“ _Don’t know how!?_ ” Simon nearly shouted. “How can you not know how! You’re a ghost!!”

“I only just figured out how to _not_ be invisible!”

“Mr. Jackson, are you alright?” came ConneR’s voice through the door again.

“Uh, just a second!” Simon yelled, waving his arms violently at Hans to _get out of the room, do anything!!_

When Simon opened the door for ConneR, he only looked slightly peeved.

“Mr. Neumann!”

“Ah, Mr. Jackson. Looks like you made it to the door,” ConneR replied coolly, and Simon wished he could close said door right in his face.

ConneR leaned forward slightly, gazing at the apartment past Simon’s shoulder.

“Your quarters are quite spacious. They seem to have given me rather small ones. Anyway, may I ask you about your knowledge on guitars? I’m afraid my expertise lies in a more refined area of musicianship.”

Simon chose to ignore the backhanded insult.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Neumann, but this is a bad time. Maybe some other…”

“All I wanted was to ask some questions. You see, we uncovered a small collection of ancient acoustic instruments, and-“

“Ah, sorry, but you seem to be under the impression that I know anything about acoustic guitars,” Simon replied, cutting him off. “You’ve misunderstood. I often mention my preference for _physical_ instruments, not acoustic.”

“Ah, so I have!” ConneR chuckled, tapping his chin. “Sorry for the disturbance again. Especially when I see that you have guests.”

Simon’s hand froze on the doorknob, and he pivoted slowly to find Hans behind him, obviously attempting to make his way past without being seen. At least he wasn’t a foot up in the air this time.

Simon sent Hans a glare, silently wishing him to not say anything and just keep moving, but instead, the kid put on a polite smile and moved towards the doorway.

“Hello! I’m Hans,” he introduced, and Simon wished he could kick him right then.

“Colin Neumann Jr.,” ConneR introduced in return.

“This, is, uh…” Simon began, brain whirring to somehow form a cover story. “This is my… little cousin. He’s staying with me briefly.”

ConneR hummed thoughtfully.

“Well, it's kind of the ARC to allow him to stay on board, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is,” Simon said hurriedly, praying for the conversation to end. “Anyway, have a good afternoon, Mr Neumann.”

Simon quickly swung the door closed, preventing anything more leaving ConneR’s mouth, and turned to glare fiercely at Hans.

“Did you hear what that guy said?” asked Hans incredulously. “ _More refined area_ … if I had a physical form right now, I would’ve suplexed him straight through the floor.”

“Suplexed…? Wait, no, what were you even doing out here!? I told you to leave!”

“Well sorry that your instructions weren’t very clear!” Hans retorted. “You made it look more like you wanted me to… run around really fast! Or something!”

Hans gave a sigh. “I thought that I could disappear again if I just went to the spot where I turned un-invisible. It made sense at the time.”

Simon put his face in his hands.

“Great. Now Colin Neumann thinks I have a cousin.”

“Don’t worry about that!” Hans said with a wink. “I used to be a pretty good on stage. You know what? Let’s be… roommates!"

Simon brought his hands down and looked at Hans tiredly.

“…Roommates?”

“Yeah! It’s perfect!” Hans replied, throwing his hands out and hovering higher. “I’ll just keep pretending I’m your relative!”

Simon brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“And what benefits are there for me, huh?”

“Come _ooon_ ,” Hans whined. “We’re friends now, aren’t we? What _harm_ is there in it? Plus, I can provide exclusive services, like… turning your lights on and off! Or making your taps drip!” He stuck his hands out in a show-like manner, wiggling his fingers.

“I mean,” Simon finally began after a pause, “why not, I guess?”

“Nice!” Hans exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air. He then held out his hand towards Simon.

“We have a deal, then?” Hans gave a wide grin. Simon smiled back.

“Yeah. We have a deal.”

Simon reached out to shake his hand, but snatched it back after the chill of passing through Hans’ body hit him. Hans cackled delightedly.

“Ha! You actually went for it! Classic ghost-hand trick!"


End file.
